


Bolder Now

by sablier_bloque



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-10
Updated: 2011-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-17 20:40:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sablier_bloque/pseuds/sablier_bloque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stefan doesn't want Damon to leave him. He'll do what it takes to keep him there. First time, with Salvatores who are still human. Prequel to "Weaker Now," but can more than likely stand alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bolder Now

**Author's Note:**

> Written around 1.06, I believe. Thanks to autumn_lilacs for the beta!

_Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting,  
And by addition me of thee defeated,  
By adding one thing to my purpose nothing.  
But since she prick'd thee out for women's pleasure,  
Mine be thy love and thy love's use their treasure._  
Williams Shakespeare, Sonnet 20

 **August, 1863**

“When do you plan to enlist?” Stefan asks, his eyes falling to the fishing rod held loosely in his hands. They’ve been in the small boat for a while now and they haven’t caught anything yet.

“As soon as I turn 18,” Damon answers, trying to ignore the sad, bitter sound of Stefan’s voice, the way it cracked at the end of the question. He’s not doing a good job.

Damon informed his family of his plans to join the Confederacy three days ago, and Stefan has barely spoken to him since. He’s caught Stefan watching him countless times in the past few days, has seen Stefan’s mouth open to say _something_ , but then closes it and looks away.

He thought fishing might be a good idea – it usually puts Stefan in a good mood. The warmth of the sun and the calming waters always puts a smile on his brother’s face. It’s different this time though.

“It can’t be a good—“ Stefan stops himself, biting his lip as his brow furrows.

“What?”

“The Confederacy is losing.”

“We still have a responsibility.”

“ _You’re_ talking about responsibility?” Stefan asks, heat in his voice and if it wasn’t such a serious discussion, Damon would roll his eyes at how petty his little brother sounds.

“I don’t care about the responsibility to the Confederacy. I’m talking about the responsibility to the family.” Damon throws his own line back into the water. “And if we win the war, the Salvatores could very well be an important family of the new country. How would it look if their son, old enough for war, didn’t fight?”

“The Conscription… you don’t have to go until you’re 20.”

“What 18-year-old isn’t getting their parents’ written permission to enlist?”

Stefan is still avoiding his eyes, and it’s just as well since Damon doesn’t think he can bear to face all of that sadness. Damon looks at his brother, sees a drop of sweat trickling down his neck and into the collar of his shirt. The heavy, humid warmth of the summer air makes Stefan’s white shirt cling to the curvature of his back. He wants to trace his index finger over the lines of muscle, the desire almost overtaking him, but he buries it and the guilt that it brings with it with a deep breath.

“I’m bored,” Damon says, trying to write off what just passed – the conversation, the strange longing. “Nothing is catching anyways. Want to run?”

“Sure,” Stefan answers, hastily putting the rod back in the boat and grabbing an oar to get them to the shoreline.

“We don’t have to run. It’s hot.”

“It’s fine.”

Damon is aware that his brother is far from fine, upset by Damon’s news of enlisting, but he doesn’t answer.

They row the boat to the shore, getting into the shallow waters to tie it off to a nearby tree. Damon dries his feet before sticking them his shoes and then throws the cloth to Stefan so that he can do the same.

“A race, little brother?”

Stefan nods without a word.

“Excellent.” He looks at Stefan, the gaze prolonged while both of their bodies tense up to begin. “Go.” Both of the brothers take off, the constant ducking under and between branches slows them down slightly, but they have always been fast runners. There is never an undefeated winner when they race – it is surprising if one wins a few times in a row, and Damon loves that. He loves not knowing who is going to win, who will have to give in.

And sometimes they play dirty – throwing something small to make the other trip or trying to get the other’s attention on anything but the run. Well, maybe it’s just Damon who does that.

Maybe it’s anger and frustration that is driving him, but Stefan is already getting a good lead and Damon just isn’t having that. Damon calls Stefan’s name, something neither of them ever does during a run, knowing it will tilt his brother off balance. Stefan turns for a moment, still running, but just the second that it takes to look back slows him down a bit.

They’re reaching the end of their track; the finish line being a tree that they used to climb when they were younger. Damon gets close enough to Stefan to touch, so he does, almost jumping onto his back and tumbling them both to the ground.

“Ow, damn it,” Stefan says, and Damon sits up and turns his brother around so that Stefan is lying on his back. Damon straddles him and he grabs the lapel of Stefan’s shirt in his fist.

“Did I hurt you?” Damon asks, a tiny bit of fear pulsing through his blood stream as his brother coughs.

Stefan shakes his head. “Just knocked the wind out of me.” Stefan coughs again. “Cheater. I still won.”

Damon smirks. “Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night, little brother.”

Stefan brings his hand up to punch him, though only playfully since he is smiling (smiling for the first time in _days_ ), but Damon grabs both of his wrists and pins them to the soil.

They are both breathing hard – exerted from the run. Damon feels Stefan’s pulse against his palms that beats completely out of rhythm with his own, but still just as fast. He looks at Stefan’s eyes, brown and warm, so unlike his own, icy and blue. Stefan licks his lips, and Damon could swear that Stefan’s eyes move to Damon’s mouth as he does so.

Damon shifts to get up, though his hands are still on Stefan’s wrists, and as his hips slide against his brothers’, he feels Stefan’s dick hot and hard between his thighs. Damon’s eyes fly to Stefan’s face, panic and confusion gripping him, blood rushing toward his own cock, and he finally releases Stefan’s wrists and tries to get up.

He can’t though, because Stefan’s hand is suddenly reaching up and cupping the back of his neck, pulling Damon down to meet him before timidly kissing Damon’s lips. Damon groans, his thoughts jumbled and his blood spiked with fear and adrenaline, and he kisses back.

The sigh Stefan makes as Damon licks Stefan’s bottom lip makes him shiver, and the feeling of Stefan’s tongue against his own is enough to make him dizzy. Damon should be thinking _wrong, wrong, wrong_ , should be pushing his _baby brother_ away from him, asking Stefan what the hell is wrong with him. He can’t though. Stefan’s warm against him, his lips soft, yet demanding against his own, and Damon is lost.

Stefan’s hands slide against Damon’s chest, fingers sliding over his nipples through the linen of his shirt. Damon groans softly at the feel of it, realizing that yes, he can touch Stefan too. He can trace every inch of soft skin, roam over every curve of muscle and bone. He can know his brother in this way just as well as he does in every other way.

Damon grabs Stefan by the collar of his shirt, sitting up and dragging his brother with him. Their kisses are desperate now, more teeth, more hunger, and he can feel Stefan’s anger for leaving him in every bite and caress of tongue. Damon pulls down Stefan’s suspenders and untucks Stefan’s shirt hastily before yanking it off and throwing it behind his brother.

He has seen Stefan without his shirt hundreds of time, but he has never really _looked_ , never noticed the beauty his brother possesses.

“Jesus,” Damon whispers, gazing at olive skin, sprinkled with the occasional freckle and few faded scars from their childhood. But it’s smooth, and as Damon brushes his fingers over his brother’s collarbone, he feels how soft it is.

“You can’t want this too,” Stefan breathes, ridding Damon of his own shirt before tangling his fingers in the curls of hair at Damon’s neck.

“Why not?” Damon asks. He leans down and kisses Stefan’s jaw line, working his lips down to where Stefan’s throat meets his clavicle, licking the skin, sucking it once before biting it softly. “You’re the one who always worries about propriety.”

“You’re the one joining the damn army for the _family name_.”

“Language, Stefan. What would all the schoolgirls say, hmm? The ones who think you’re the perfect gentleman?”

“They’d probably blame it on you,” Stefan replies before lying down against the soil, his shirt pillowing his head.

“Would they blame this on me too?” Damon asks and reaches into Stefan’s pants to curl his hand around his cock. Stefan sucks in a breath and closes his eyes while Damon’s hand moves up and down his length slowly.

“Yes,” Stefan answers hoarsely.

“If they could see you now,” Damon continues. It’s awkward trying to touch Stefan like this, so he unbuttons Stefan’s trousers and pulls out his cock. Pre-come drips from the slit, shiny against the darkened skin. “Writhing in the dirt while your brother has his way with you.” Damon bends down and licks the fluid from the head, and Stefan’s sharp intake of breath makes Damon dizzy with want.

“Want this, yes?” Damon asks him, smiling. He looks up through his lashes to see Stefan sitting up, his elbows resting against the dirt, and when their eyes meet, Damon sucks on the head. His tongue presses against the slit, eliciting a groan from Stefan, and he finally takes Stefan’s length into his mouth.

“Damon,” Stefan whispers and his hand falls to Damon’s head, fingers curling in his hair. Damon runs his tongue along the vein of Stefan’s dick; let’s the head of the cock hit his throat. Damon’s never done this, doesn’t know the tricks of the trade like he does with women. Stefan doesn’t seem to care though, making all these breathy moans that almost make Damon come from just the sound of them.

Damon reaches down to his own cock, freeing it from his pants and tugging it roughly. His brother can’t be far from coming – he’s sixteen and can’t be that experienced (and the thought of Stefan being experienced makes icy rage strike his heart). He wants to be there with his brother when he finally finishes.

“Please, _please_ ,” Stefan begs, gripping Damon’s hair tightly as Damon’s mouth moves up and down on his cock. And Damon wants to know what he’s begging for -- _more, faster, please don’t leave me_. “Damon, you have to,” he moans again, trying to pull Damon away. “I’m going to—“

Stefan’s body arches, come spilling into Damon’s mouth, and it’s so sudden that Damon couldn’t get away if he wanted to. But he doesn’t want to. He jacks Stefan’s cock with his hand while his mouth moves to cover just the head, his tongue catching and lapping up every drop of come.

“Please, let me touch you, Damon. Haven’t touched you at all.” Stefan hauls Damon up by the shoulders, and his fingers entwine with his brother’s on Damon’s cock. One, two tugs is all it takes, and Damon comes so suddenly that he can’t help the cry that escapes his lips. He watches Stefan’s hands on his skin, watches as pearl-white streaks paint Stefan’s chest and stomach.

Stefan runs his thumb through it and brings it to his mouth. His eyes never leave Damon’s as he sucks his thumb into his mouth. Damon pushes Stefan’s hand away and kisses his brother again. Both of them groan at the taste of each other, and Damon wonders if Stefan is pushing down the same guilt that he is.

He wonders if Stefan will ever forgive him for leaving; will ever forgive him for doing _this_ to him.

“Just promise me you’ll come back,” Stefan says, pulling away to look at his brother; to make sure he’s not lying.

“Yes, Stefan.” Damon sits up and looks away. “Always.”


End file.
